


We’ll All Go Together When We Go.

by steeleye



Series: Military Faith. [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Romance, Xover Fic BtVS with the movie 'Dr Strangelove', action adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ‘Military Faith’ story: Chief Warrant Officer Faith Lehane, US Army Rangers, is in a race against time to stop a demoniacally possessed USAF General from starting World War Three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

We’ll All Go Together When We Go.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Dr Strangelove. The film was directed by, Stanley Kubrick. Written by Stanley Kubrick, Terry Southern and Peter George from the book ‘Red Alert’ which was also written by Peter George. I also do not claim authorship for any scripted words found in this fic. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** The ‘Buffyverse’ with the 1964 classic movie; ‘Dr Strangelove. Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb’.

 **Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious UK-English which is different to US-English.

 **Timeline:** A ‘Military Faith’ story set after the events depicted in ‘Foothold’.

 **Words:** Seven chapters of about 2500+ words each.

 **Warnings:** Minor violence and strong language.

 **Summary:** A ‘Military Faith’ story: Chief Warrant Officer Faith Lehane, US Army Rangers, is in a race against time to stop a demoniacally possessed USAF General from starting World War Three.

0=0=0=0

_When you attend a funeral,  
It is sad to think that sooner or   
Later those you love will do the same for you.   
And you may have thought it tragic,   
Not to mention other adjec-   
Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do.   
But don't you worry.   
No more ashes, no more sackcloth.   
And an armband made of black cloth   
Will some day never more adorn a sleeve.   
For if the bomb that drops on you,   
Gets your friends and neighbours too,   
There'll be nobody left behind to grieve. _

_And we will all go together when we go.  
What a comforting fact that is to know.   
Universal bereavement,   
An inspiring achievement,   
Yes, we’ll all go together when we go._

*

*‘We will all go together when we go’, Tom Lehrer.

0=0=0=0

**Cape Vincent Hotel, Cape Vincent, New York State, July 2008.**

“Hi Faith!” Willow called as she caught sight of her new girlfriend.

Rushing across the hotel lobby and elbowing some of the early summer visitors out of her way when they didn’t move fast enough, Willow threw her arms around Faith’s neck and hugged her fiercely. To anyone watching it looked like two old friends greeting each other after a long separation. In reality it was all Willow could do to stop herself from kissing Faith on her lips and tearing her clothes off right there in the reception lobby.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Willow whispered as she continued to hold on to Faith like her very life depended on it.

“Yeah, me too,” Faith replied, her joy at seeing Willow once again marred only by the fact that she had to stop herself from returning Willow’s obvious pleasure in seeing her again, “Hey,” Faith breathed into Willow’s ear, “lets turn it down a little, people are watching.”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” reluctantly Willow let go of Faith and stepped away from her by half a pace and smiled broadly at Faith who was dressed in her army uniform.

Although Willow knew that Faith had to be careful, (what with the Army being such a ‘pain’ about gay relationships) she couldn’t help but let a little bitterness enter her voice when she couldn’t greet her lover like she wanted to. Faith had been in the army since 2000 when she’d woken up from her coma in Sunnydale General with no memory of her past. In 2005 Faith’s picture had appeared in a newspaper that she’d come back on to Buffy’s, Willow’s and the rest of the Reformed Watcher’s Council’s radar.

It was only after Buffy had seen Faith lying injured in a hospital bed in Iraq that she’d got everyone to agree to leaving Faith alone. And so they had, letting Faith get on with her new life untroubled by the world of the weird and wacky. But as so often happens life just wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. It was by pure chance that Willow bumped into Faith again in 2007 when she was helping Riley and his army guys deal with a group of interstellar big game hunters who were using Jeffersonville in Virginia as their own private hunting grounds. Faith, who was stationed nearby had been called in by Riley to help out. It was during those few days that Willow found herself falling for Staff Sergeant Faith Lehane, US Army Military Police. 

“So,” Willow linked her arm through Faith’s and started to lead her further into the hotel, “how’s my big, tough Warrant Officer?”

“Oh,” Faith grinned before answering, there was something about being a ‘Warrant Officer’ that seemed to amuse Willow, but she could never get Willow to tell her what it was. “She’s fine, glad that all the training’s over.”

“So am I,” Willow led Faith into a lounge at the front of the hotel, “now you’ve finished this, what was it?”

“Ranger training,” Faith smiled as they sat down in a couple of chairs by a window which looked out over Lake Ontario.

“Yeah that’s right,” Willow frowned slightly as she thought about something, “does that mean you get to look after bears and National Parks an’ such?”

“Different sorta Ranger, Will,” Faith replied, sometimes she wasn’t sure when Willow was joking and when she truly didn’t know what some army stuff meant, “tell ya all about it later.”

“Cool…” Willow gazed at her girlfriend drinking in the hotness that was Faith Lehane, “…yeah, right,” Willow returned from wherever she’d gone to in her imagination, “so with all this training stuff over does this mean we get to spend more time together?”

“I hope so,” Faith let her eyes drift from Willow out to the lake; it sure would be nice to be able to spend some time with Willow; in the last year they’d been able to spend maybe the equivalent of three or four weeks together a day or two at a time, sometimes just a night together. “I really mean that Will,” Faith became suddenly serious, “I wanna spend more time with ya…”

“So do I baby,” Willow replied slightly surprised by Faith’s determined tone.

“Look,” Faith sat forward in her chair, “Fort Drum and Baltimore aren’t that far apart.” Faith was mainly stationed at Fort Drum while Willow had an apartment in Baltimore, “I mean Major and Mrs Finn manage it so why shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, why not!?” It always made Willow smile to hear Faith refer to Buffy as ‘Mrs Finn’, “You can visit at the weekends…if monsters and the Army let you…”

“Yeah…” Faith sighed, that would always be a problem, monsters and the Army.

The two women sat in silence for a minute or two as they stared out over the lake, eventually Willow broke the silence.

“You wanna come up stairs to the room and…” Willow tried to think of a good way of phrasing her invitation but came up blank, “…and well, y’know, ‘come’?”

“Thought ya were never gonna ask!” Faith stood up, “Just let me get my stuff from the car.”

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

Deep inside the Command Centre at Burpleson AFB, Group Captain* Lionel Mandrake considered himself a very lucky man. Not only had he been given this exchange posting to SAC in the United States, but the Wing he’d been posted to was the very last SAC unit still flying the venerable B52 bomber. In fact after the unit’s present tour of duty was completed the bombers would be taken out of service and broken up; while the aircrews would be reassigned to units across the United States and around the world. It was, as they said, the end of an era and he’d been lucky enough to see it.

Hearing a telephone buzz, Mandrake looked up from the computer monitor he’d been studying (it showed the status of every bomber in the wing). Seeing one of the Tech Sergeants answer the phone, Mandrake went back to his screen and made a few notes in the note book he always kept to hand in case General Ripper asked him anything about the Wing’s readiness.

“It’s General Ripper, sir,” the sergeant called as he held out the phone to the British officer.

Getting up from his monitor, Mandrake walked over to the sergeant and took the phone from his hand; nodding his thanks to the enlisted man, he put the receiver to his ear.

“Group Captain Mandrake speaking...” he announced in his usual clipped tones.

“This is General Ripper,” sitting at his desk in his office, General Ripper watched as cigar smoke curled lazily up towards the florescent light tubes above his head, “Mandrake…?”

“Yes, sir?” Mandrake wondered why the General was calling so late, normally he’d have left his office some hours ago.

“Do you recognize my voice, Mandrake?” Asked the General.

“Yes sir,” Mandrake shrugged his shoulders slightly confused by the question, “why do you ask?” 

“Why do you think I ask?” General Ripper massaged the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he could feel another headache coming on.

“I’m sure I don't know, sir,” Mandrake frowned to himself, “We only spoke a few hours ago, didn't we?” 

“You don't think I'd ask if you recognized my voice unless it was pretty damned important, Mandrake?” The General asked with a slight edge to his voice, a painful throbbing started behind his eyes and he winced as it got stronger.

“No, I don't suppose you would,” Mandrake still didn’t know what was going on and was beginning to think that whatever it was it might be something really serious.

“Alright,” General Ripper sighed with relief as the pain abated slightly, “let’s see if we can stay on the ball. Has the wing completed their readiness reports?” 

“Yes, sir,” that must be it, Mandrake nodded to himself, the General was only checking that the Wing’s final mission was going off without a hitch, he smiled to himself, “The confirmations have all just come in.”

“Very well, now, listen to me carefully,” in his office General Ripper leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, “the base is being put on condition red. I want this flashed to all sections immediately.” 

“Condition red, sir.” Mandrake nodded as he made a note of the General’s order, “Yes, jolly good idea, help to keep the men on their toes.”

“Group Captain,” the General’s voice sounded particularly grave, “I'm afraid this is not an exercise.” 

“Not an exercise, sir?” Mandrake sat up straight and listened to what the General was telling him very carefully.

“I shouldn't tell you this, Mandrake,” the General confided, “but you're a good officer and you have a right to know. It looks like we're in a shooting war.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Mandrake gasped as his heart jumped into his throat, “Who’s involved sir? 

“Mandrake,” the headache had come back and General Ripper was finding it hard to concentrate, “that's all I've been told. It just came in on the ‘Red Phone’.” Once again the pain behind his eyes subsided, “My orders are for this base to be sealed tight, and that's what I mean to do: seal it tight.” By now the pain had almost vanished and General Ripper sat back in his chair and picked up his forgotten cigar, “Now, I want you to implement plan ‘R’, ‘R’ for Robert; I repeat, plan ‘R’ for Robert.” 

“It’s that bad sir?” Mandrake felt his heart pounding in his chest and watched as his fingers trembled slightly as he wrote down the General’s instructions; plan R for Robert meant the immediate launch of all the wing’s aircraft. He’d imagined this sort of thing happening, but he’d never imagined it would be happening on his watch.

“It looks pretty damned hairy,” headache free now, Ripper felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Right sir,” Mandrake reconfirmed just to make sure he’d not misheard the order, “Plan R for Robert, sir.” 

“Now,” once again Ripper sat forward in his chair and spoke firmly but calmly to the officer at the other end of the line, “last, and possibly most importantly, I want all privately owned communications devices to be immediately impounded.” 

“Right you are, sir,” Mandrake nodded as he scribbled in his note book. 

“They might be used to issue instructions to saboteurs,” the General explained. “As I’ve previously arranged, Air Police will have lists of all owners and I want everything collected without exception.” 

“Yes sir,” again Mandrake nodded as if he was talking to the general in person. 

“And after you've done that, report back to me,” slowly the general reached across his desk and replaced the receiver in its cradle, it was done everything was now in motion and couldn’t be stopped.

Getting up, General Ripper turned towards the window that looked out over his base. Walking slowly across his office he listened as the alert sirens began to wail their mournful call as the lights started to go out across the base. Very soon the sound of the sirens was drowned out by the roar of the B52’s as they lumbered into the air. Working his way along the line of windows he closed the blinds and shut out the scene while preventing anyone from seeing into his office. Once that was done he turned to survey his office. Looking directly at the Air Force Colonel who’d been standing in the shadows at the far side of his office all the time he’d been on the phone, General Ripper took a deep breath and shook his head sadly.

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Colonel Reed?” Almost as soon as he’d asked the question the headache started again making him groan and stumble against his desk.

“Of course we are, sir,” the officer replied, her voice soft and reassuring, she walked over to the General and laid her hand on his forehead, “it’s our duty to save the country.”

The general sighed with relief as he felt Colonel Reed’s cool hand on his brow and the headache began to recede at her touch.

“You’re right, of course,” standing up again General Ripper pulled his jacket straight, “now if you’ll excuse me Colonel, I have work to do.”

“Of course, General,” Colonel Reed smiled.

0=0=0=0

**Cape Vincent Hotel, Cape Vincent, New York State, at about the same time.**

Lying in bed next to Faith, Willow stared at the ceiling as she listened to Faith’s soft snoring. Her happiness at having her lover back safely in her bed again was marred only by one thing. When Buffy had sworn everyone to secrecy about Faith’s past, it hadn’t bothered Willow because she’d not been involved with Faith then and she would have laughed at anyone who was foolish enough to suggest that she ever would be.

But those days were past, Willow now loved Faith with all her heart, she was never one to hold back in anything she did, at least not in the last few years. She also knew with a certainty that was like knowing it had already happened, if Faith ever found out or even suspected that Willow knew something about her life pre-army, everything they had or might have would be gone for good. Willow also believed that if she ever told Faith what she knew voluntarily, then that would be the end too. This was a lose-lose situation, tell and be branded a liar, don’t tell and have Faith find out and be branded as a deceiver.

Whatever she did she couldn’t win, all she could do was to hope that it never came out. Luckily, she was now old enough and wise enough to know that magic would only make a bad situation infinitely worse. Willow’s dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Faith’s cellphone buzzing on the night stand. Coming quickly awake, Faith yawned and reached for her cell, flipping it open she put to her ear.

“Lehane,” she announced crisply before going quiet and listening, “Okay, I’m at Cape Vincent I can be back on base in…” Once again Faith paused as she listened to someone talking, “Okay, Ma’am, home in on my cell I’ll be waiting in the parking lot for the chopper.”

Flipping her phone shut Faith turned to look at Willow, “Sorry, babe, gotta go.”

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

“It’s time,” Colonel Reed announced as she stepped out of the shadows at the back of the General’s office.

“You’re sure about this?” Ripper asked but almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth the pain behind his eyes started to pound on his brain like waves smashing against a rocky shore.

“Yes I’m sure, General,” Colonel Reed replied with just a hint of anger, “nothing must be allowed to get in the way of the successful completion of the mission.”

“Of course, of course,” General Ripper leaned against his desk for a moment as he tried to fight the pain that felt like red hot daggers being driven through his brain. “I understand, I’ll make the announcement.”

As soon as he’d finished speaking the pain backed off a little. Walking around his desk he sat down, reaching out with his right hand he flicked some switches on his intercom (a relic from the Cold War), picking up the unit’s microphone he started to speak.

“Your attention, this is General Ripper speaking I have an important announcement concerning the present emergency,” sighing as the pain in his head receded once more General Ripper sat back in his chair and made his announcement. 

“The enemies of the United States have no regard for human life, not even their own. And for this reason, I want to impress upon you the need for extreme watchfulness.” The General paused to look at Colonel Reed and received a reassuring nod, he continued speaking his voice growing stronger by the moment, “The enemy may come individually, or he may come in strength. He may even come in the uniform of our own troops. But however he comes we must stop him. We must not allow him to gain access to this base.”

“Now, I am going to give you three simple rules. First, trust no one, whatever his uniform or rank, unless they are known to you personally. Second, anyone or anything that approaches within 200 yards of the perimeter is to be fired upon. Third, if in doubt, shoot first, and ask questions afterwards. I would sooner accept a few casualties through accident than lose the entire base and its personnel through carelessness. Any variation on these rules must come from me personally. Now, in conclusion, I would like to say that, in the two years it’s been my privilege to be your commanding officer, I have always expected the best from you, and you have never given me anything less than that. Today, the nation is counting on us. We are not going to let them down. Good luck to you all.”

Switching off the microphone and putting it down General Ripper glanced over to where Colonel Reed had been standing, she wasn’t there anymore. Sighing with relief he lit another cigar, sat back in his chair and waited for the end to come.

0=0=0=0

**Note.**  
The RAF rank of ‘Group Captain’ is equivalent to the rank of full Colonel in the USAF. 


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

Closing down the computer room, Group Captain Mandrake turned off the last few monitors. The room wasn’t needed now, all command functions had been transferred to the Command Bunker and anyway all the tech staff had been given rifles and sent off to help defend the base. Picking up the folder containing the mission briefings and code words for Plan ‘R’, Mandrake glanced around at the silent computers before walking briskly to the door.

At the door he paused again, looking around one last time he saw that the room was completely deserted. Turning once more he switched off the lights before leaving the room and going into the computer room annex. Here he stopped to check on something that one of the printers was printing out. Glancing at the sheets of paper as they slid from the machine he saw it was nothing important. Switching off the printer, Mandrake was just about to walk away when he saw something almost hidden under a pile of paper lying next the printer.

Picking up the little radio, Mandrake smiled. It was a retro model designed to look like something from the 1960’s, something that his father or mother might have owned in fact. Mindful that all communication devices were supposed to be handed in to the Air Police, he took the radio with every intention of handing it over. Somehow his thumb fell upon the on/off switch and turned the little dial. The radio burst into life its tiny speaker blaring discordant jazz music into the quiet of the room. Frowning, Mandrake looked at the radio, this couldn’t be right, he told himself. If the country was under some sort of attack surely they wouldn’t be still be broadcasting jazz music, would they? Turning the dial, Mandrake found that other local stations were continuing with their normal broadcasting.

“Bloody odd,” he muttered to himself as he found what sounded like a talk radio station, he listened intently.

The ‘host’ of the radio show sounded like he was having a heated argument with a caller about which books the local school-board should put in its libraries. The host appeared be supporting the First Amendment, while the caller was advocating book burning. Getting slightly lost in the finer points of the argument, Mandrake forgot for a moment what he was supposed to be doing. He only returned to the here and now when the station broke for some messages from their sponsors. It was then that Mandrake realised that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Oh bloody hell!” he cried as he headed on out of the annex and down the corridor towards the stairs that would lead him up to General Ripper’s office.

While a local radio station might keep broadcasting, even during a dire emergency, Mandrake felt sure they wouldn’t be talking about the contents of school libraries and they certainly wouldn’t be taking ad breaks. The alert had to be some kind of drill; only then did a frightening thought enter Mandrake’s mind. What if this wasn’t a drill, what if it was some sort of enemy trick designed to make the United States launch a nuclear strike against a perceived enemy. Whatever the truth, the Wing must be turned back or returned to their Failsafe points; the General needed to know.

0=0=0=0

**Lima One-Nine, somewhere over the continental United States.**

Standing next to the short ladder that led up to the flightdeck, Staff Sergeant Scott (Loadmaster of Lima one-nine) eyed the female, army, Warrant Officer as she sat all alone in the cargo bay surrounded by her gear. He wondered why she was so important that his aircraft should be diverted to Fort Drum and why they had to fly her almost half way across the country. Shifting slightly into a more comfortable position Scott had to admit that the woman had to be the most attractive Warrant Officer, Army or otherwise, he’d ever seen. Although she couldn’t be more than about five-six, he guessed her uniform must hide some major muscles. When she’d come aboard she’d lifted all her combat gear effortlessly into the aircraft without his help.

Wherever she was going she was sure expecting trouble; she carried her helmet, body armour, M4 rifle and pistol plus a full load of ammo and grenades. This woman was looking for trouble, so why was she heading for some out of the way one horse town like Springfield up near the Canadian border? A nasty thought came to Scott’s mind; Springfield was near Burpleson Air Force Base, one of the last SAC airbases in this part of the country. He also remembered the navigator talking to the skipper about not landing at Burpleson AFB. They’d been ordered to land at Springfield's civilian airport.

“Oh shit,” Scott gasped quietly as he added two and two together and came up with the worst possible scenario.

What if something ‘bad’ had gone down at Burpleson, what if this, oh so sexy looking army woman had been sent to ‘deal’ with some sort of ‘situation’? His eyes fell on the Ranger tabs on the woman’s shoulder, next they moved to the rifle lying on the seat next to her. Lastly his eyes flicked back to the weird unit patch just under the Ranger tabs. He’d caught a glimpse of it as she’d climbed aboard; it had looked like some sort of demonic head with a red ‘not allowed’ symbol superimposed on it.

Still puzzling over what the hell was going on, Scott’s thoughts were interrupted by Lima One-Nine’s sco-pilot calling to him over his headsets. Gulping down the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat and trying to still his rapidly beating heart, Scott listened to what the Lieutenant had to say. Nodding his head and giving a quiet ‘Roger’, Scott started to make his way down the length of the aircraft to where the female ranger sat.

“Ma’am?” Scott touched Faith on the shoulder to attract her attention.

“What ya want, Sergeant?” Faith looked up at the man.

“Message from the Skipper ma’am,” Scott swallowed finding his mouth suddenly dry, “all US forces have been put on Defcon Two, Fast Pace, and we’re ten minutes out from Springfield.”

“Thank-you, Sergeant,” Faith nodded as she started to check her gear one last time before they landed.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Scott hadn’t gone back to his spot over by the flightdeck, he still stood over Faith a worried expression on his face.

“What’s up?” Faith asked keeping her face neutral.

“Do you know what the hell’s going on?” Scott asked as he gestured with one hand to the world in general. “Defcon Two? It’s like something outta a spy movie.”

“How the hell should I know, Sergeant?” Faith shrugged and gave the man a weak smile, “I just go where they tell me an’ do what I’m told.”

“Yeah, ma’am, right,” somehow Scott didn’t feel that reassured by Faith’s answer; he turned and made his way back to the front of the aircraft.

Sitting in her uncomfortable nylon web seat, Faith glanced at her watch, corrected it for the local time zone and looked at it again. Sighing she thanked whoever for giving her super-powers and the ability to get by on a couple of hours sleep a night…a couple of hours sleep preceded by some pretty frantic love making. Once again Faith remembered the sad, worried look on Willow’s face as she’d jumped out of bed and hurriedly put on her clothes.

Thankfully, Willow hadn’t made a fuss; she hadn’t demanded to know why their first real break together was being interrupted. She’d not wanted to know where Faith was going or when she’d be back, she’s seemed to know that Faith wouldn’t be able to tell her. Only…only when they had parted, Willow had held her like they were never going to see each other again, like she knew Faith wasn’t coming back. The redhead had tried to hide her tears but Faith had seen them glittering in the soft glow of the room’s lights. When she’d boarded the chopper in the parking lot that would take her back to Fort Drum, Faith had looked back to search out the window of their room. There she’d seen the silhouette of Willow's upper body against the light of the room, Faith had waved and seen Willow wave back. Then she was in the Blackhawk and being whisked up into the air and away from her lover…perhaps forever.

Cocking her head at the change in tone of the aircraft’s engines Faith felt the transport start its decent towards Springfield. Picking up her rifle she pulled back the charging handle and checked that the breach was empty, next she let her fingers run over her equipment harness. All the pouches were full of spare magazines and grenades, all were secured so that when she jumped from the back of the aircraft nothing would go flying. That had happened to her once before, she’d jumped down from a truck, hit the ground and the magazines from one of her pouches had bounced out and onto the ground. She’d spent an embarrassing couple of minutes collecting her spilt gear under the watchful and unforgiving eye of her instructor; she wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Reaching inside her body armour, Faith’s fingers came into contact with the envelope containing her orders. They were quite simple; she was to gain access to Burpleson Air Force Base and retrieve the Recall Codes for the 843rd Bomber Wing that was even now speeding towards their targets in China, Russia and the Middle East. She was to do this by any means necessary and to help her she had an entire battalion of the National Guard to persuade the local Air Force types to let her through. But the icing on the cake, in fact the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake and the reason that the Pentagon had sent her instead of an entire brigade of paratroopers was that the base commander, General Jack D Ripper (an unfortunate name if Faith had ever heard one) was believed to have been possessed by a demon. This made it the 613th’s area of responsibility, which made it Faith’s responsibility. To be honest she could well do without all this responsibility, thank-you very much.

Hearing an indistinct cry over the sound of the aircraft’s engines, Faith looked up at the Loadmaster; he held up five fingers. Five minutes before touch down, sighing Faith started to check her gear one more time.

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

“Excuse me sir,” Mandrake burst into General Ripper’s office without knocking, “something rather interesting’s turned up. Listen to this,” he held up the little radio for the General to hear the voices issuing from its speaker. “Civilian broadcasting, I think those chaps at the Pentagon have given us some sort of exercise to test our readiness.” Mandrake switched off the radio having got the General’s attention, “Personally, I think its taking things too far; our chaps will be inside Russian radar cover in about twenty minutes.” 

“Mandrake,” the General sounded very tired, he looked over to where Colonel Reed stood by the windows as if seeking reassurance.

“Yes sir?” Mandrake replied still not realising there was something more than an exercise going on.

“I thought I issued instructions for all communications devices on base to be impounded.” Ripper looked up at Mandrake as he felt the presence of Reed standing right behind his chair; standing up slowly he made his way across the room to his office door and locked it. Putting the key into his trouser pocket he went back to stand behind his desk.

“Yes, you did sir and I was in the process of impounding this very one when I happened to switch it on.” Mandrake frowned at his commanding officer; he was just starting to get an inkling of something very strange going on here. “I thought to myself,” Mandrake continued doggedly, “what with our chaps hitting Russian radar cover soon and then dropping all their stuff, I thought I'd better tell you, because if they do, it'll cause a bit of a stink, won't it?”

“Group Captain,” Ripper sat back down in his chair, he could feel the headache coming back, “the officer exchange program doesn’t give you any special prerogatives to question my orders.” 

“No, I realize that sir,” Mandrake replied, he’d had no intention of questioning the general’s orders; he just wanted to make sure that he was in possession of all the relevant facts, “but I thought you'd be rather pleased to hear the news. I mean after all, let's face it we don't want to start a nuclear war unless we really have to, do we?” 

“Please sit down,” General Ripper gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Colonel Reed bent down to whisper in the General’s ear, “You’re going to have to kill him, General.”

The demonic Colonel was worried about Mandrake, in her time on base she’d had no success either controlling or even making herself visible to the Group Captain. This failure worried her, the simplest solution would be to get the general to kill Mandrake, but General Ripper’s mind had always been resistant to the idea.

“Yes sir,” Mandrake sat down, by now he’d realised that something was very wrong, very wrong indeed, “Erm, what about the planes, sir? Surely we should issue the recall code immediately.” 

“Group Captain,” the General sighed sadly, “the planes are not going to be recalled. My attack orders have been issued and those orders stand.” 

“Well,” Mandrake gulped rather loudly at this news, “if you'll excuse me for saying so, sir. That would be, to my way of thinking, rather an odd way of looking at it.” Mandrake was still convinced that there’d been a mistake and if he could make the General see sense they could avert catastrophe, “You see, if an enemy attack was in progress we’d certainly not be hearing civilian broadcasting.”

“Are you certain of that, Mandrake?” General Ripper raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Yes Sir, I'm absolutely positive about that,” Mandrake nodded his head firmly. 

“And what if it’s true?” General Ripper asked reasonably.

“I'm afraid I'm still not with you, sir. Because, I mean, if an enemy attack was not in progress then your use of Plan ‘R’, in fact your orders to the entire wing...oh…” The penny slowly dropped as Mandrake realised that General Ripper had gone completely and utterly insane, “Well I would say, sir, that there was something dreadfully wrong somewhere.”

“Now, why don't you just take it easy, Group Captain,” General Ripper smiled reassuringly, “and please make me a drink of grain alcohol and rain water,” he gestured to the drinks cabinet next to the wall opposite the windows, “and help yourself to whatever you'd like.” 

“General Ripper, sir,” Mandrake got to his feet, pulled his uniform straight and came to attention before saluting the General, “as an officer in Her Majesty's Air Force, it’s my clear duty, under the present circumstances, to issue the recall code upon my own authority. If you'll excuse me sir,” Mandrake turned and walked over to the door only to find it locked, returning to face the general, Mandrake held out his hand, “I'm afraid sir, I must ask you for the key and the recall code. Have you got them handy sir?” 

“I told you to take it easy, Group Captain,” General Ripper smiled lazily the headache had retreated to the back of his mind again, “There's nothing anybody can do about this thing now. I'm the only person who knows the three letter code group.” 

“Then I must insist, sir,” Mandrake replied trying to stifle his feelings of growing panic, “that you give them to me.” 

Not replying directly, General Ripper lifted a folder from his desk to reveal a pearl handled Colt 45 automatic pistol. Just for a moment Reed thought that the General was actually going to kill Mandrake, she smiled with relief.

“Do I take it, sir,” Mandrake swallowed the lump in his throat, “that you are threatening a brother officer with a gun?”

“Mandrake,” the General sighed once more as he dropped the folder onto his desk next to the pistol, “I suppose it never occurred to you that while we're chatting here so enjoyably, a decision is being made by the President and the Joint Chiefs in the war room at the Pentagon. When they realize there is no possibility of recalling the wing, there will be only one course of action open: total commitment.” The general sounded frighteningly sane as he glanced around to receive an encouraging smile from Colonel Reed, “Mandrake, do you recall what Clemenzo once said about war?”

“No, sir,” Mandrake followed the general’s gaze but couldn’t see what he was looking at, “I don't think I do.”

“He said war was too important to be left to the Generals,” General Ripper explained, “When he said that, ninety years ago, he might have been right. But today, war is too important to be left to politicians. They’ve neither the time, the training, nor the inclination for strategic thought. I can no longer sit back and allow Marxist infiltration, Marxist indoctrination, Marxist subversion, and the international Marxist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids.”

0=0=0=0

**Author’s Note:** ‘Marxism’…a bit dated I know, in the film they actually said ‘Communism’ after all the film was made in the sixties. I used ‘Marxism’ because I thought someone might ‘get upset’ if I used the word I wanted to use. 


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**Springfield Airport.**

Jumping down from the rear of the air force transport, Faith paused for a moment. Turning to give the loadmaster a farewell wave, she heaved her pack onto her shoulder and trotted towards the edge of the runway as the transport’s engines roared and the aircraft taxied off down the runway ready for take off.

Standing at the edge of the tarmac, Faith watched as the aircraft gathered speed before lumbering back into the sky. Watching as her ride disappeared into the blue, early morning light; she turned, hitched up her pack, took a firm grip on her rifle and started to walk. About one-hundred yards ahead of her she could see the airport buildings; the control tower, a small terminal building for passengers, and a couple of hangers, everything you might expect to see at an airport only smaller.

What interested Faith more, however, was all the activity going on around the terminal buildings. There were old M113 APC’s and A/Cav’s*, trucks, what looked like dozens of Humvees and even a few honest to god jeeps. Around all these vehicles were men, some hung around in small groups not actually doing very much while others clambered all over the vehicles obviously preparing them for action. The men wore old green fatigues with old style equipment, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Guardsmen had ‘Fritz’ helmets Faith would have thought she’d walked onto the set of ‘Full Metal Jacket’ or something.

The sun was getting higher now, shortening the shadows as Faith approached an outlying group of men. They stood around in a huddle smoking and laughing amongst themselves. Now she was closer, Faith cast a professional eye over their uniforms and equipment. All their gear looked clean and well cared for, if a little old. However, it was their weapons that gave her pause; they all appeared to have the older versions of the M16. A few men even carried M14’s but that could be explained by them being snipers, however, she saw no sniper-scopes in evidence. A couple of men held M60’s and had long belts of ammunition draped around their bodies. Once again Faith got the feeling that she’d fallen through a time warp into the Vietnam War or something.

“Morning men,” Faith used her best ‘command voice’ as she came to the edge of the little crowd, she suddenly became the centre of attention as a dozen pairs of eyes locked on to her and inspected her every feature, ignoring the looks she was being given she asked “Where’s your CP?”

A corporal, a man in his early thirty’s, seeing her WO bars came to a rough approximation of attention and saluted. Returning the salute Faith waited for someone to answer.

“Down aways yonder,” the corporal pointed to the terminal building before adding, “Ma’am.”

“What’s your C/O’s name, Corporal?” Faith asked as she let her eyes drift over towards the terminal.

“Colonel Hooker, ma’am,” a suspicious look crossed the corporal’s eyes he was obviously wondering where Faith’d come from and what she was doing here, “Can I see some ID please?”

“Sure,” Faith pulled her Army ID from a pocket in her body armour and presented it to the Guard corporal, the man studied it for a moment before relaxing a little.

“Nothing personal, ma’am,” the corporal shifted his helmet on to the back of his head, “but you have to be careful, y’know?”

“Not a problem, Corporal…” Faith glanced at the name tag on the man’s combat jacket, “…Hicks, this way ya say?” Faith pointed towards the terminal building again and started to walk.

“Here, Ma’am,” Corporal Hicks fell in beside her, “I’ll come along with you, it’ll save time.”

Walking through the hive of activity that was the Guard unit, Faith once again noted how old, but well maintained, most of the equipment was. Hoping that the men were as sharp as their gear seemed to be, Faith eventually found herself in a large hanger. Pointing to a group of officers huddled around some tables covered in maps, Corporal Hicks wished her luck before turning and heading back to his buddies.

Standing there, Faith sighed heavily and watched the officers for a moment or two. This was going to be very awkward; she was basically going to have to tell a man who majorly outranked her what she wanted him to do. If the guy was the right type of officer he would see all her ‘orders’ as suggestions and go along with them. However, if he was a complete asshole it was going to make her job one-hundred percent harder. Reaching inside her body armour Faith pulled out the envelope that contained her orders; they came straight from the Pentagon and were signed by the Chief of Staff amongst others. Hopefully the signatures on the bottom of her orders would persuade the Guard Colonel to work with her.

Walking over to the edge of the group of officers, Faith dumped her pack on the ground, slung her rifle by its sling over her shoulder and elbowed her way through the little crowd until she could see the man in charge. Colonel Hooker looked to be in his early fifties, he had short white hair and a clipped military moustache. He stood a little over six feet tall, his uniform was smart but business-like and around his waist he wore a web belt with a pistol holster and water bottle attached.

Holding her orders in her left hand, Faith came smartly to attention and saluted.

“Colonel Hooker?” She asked crisply, the man looked directly at her and nodded, “Chief Lehane, reporting, my orders,” Faith lowered her right hand after the Colonel had returned her salute, she handed him the envelope containing her orders.

“At ease, Ms Lehane,” Hooker replied absently as he took Faith’s orders and started to read them, after a moment he looked up from the paper and glanced around at his officers. “Gentlemen,” Hooker smiled like a father at his children, “if you’ll excuse me for a moment I have to talk to Ms Lehane here,” he gestured to Faith, “we’ll continue this briefing in a few minutes.”

The officers closest to Hooker, all came to attention before walking away from the map heavy tables and standing a few yards away where they pretended not to be trying to hear what Faith and the Colonel were talking about.

“You got some pretty impressive people putting their names to your orders, Ms Lehane,” Hooker glanced from the orders to Faith and back again. “It says here that its imperative that you ‘arrest’…” Hooker took in all Faith’s warlike gear at a glance, “…General Ripper and retrieve some secret documents.”

“That’s right, Sir,” Faith replied not giving anything away.

“I won’t press you and ask why,” Hooker folded up the orders and handed them back to Faith, smiling as he did so, “it also says I’m to extend you my fullest co-operation…” Hooker seemed to lose track of what he was saying as he stared at Faith, “God-damn-it Chief, but if you ain’t the cutest Warrant Officer I ever did see!”

“Sir?” it would be safe to say that Faith was more than a little taken aback by what the Colonel had just said.

“Sorry, Chief,” Hooker sighed, “that was unprofessional of me, I apologise, you’ll have to make allowances for old Colonels like me.”

“Apology accepted, Colonel,” a ghost of a smile played around Faith’s lips, it wasn’t every day that Colonels hit on her, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“So,” the Colonel gave a slight cough before getting back to business, “how can I help you?”

“Well, Sir,” here came the hard part, Faith told herself, telling an officer what she wanted him to do, “it would be helpful if I knew how many men you had and what you’ve got planned.”

“Good idea, Chief,” Hooker gestured to the maps of the local area laid out on the table in front of them. “I've got about two hundred men at the moment, more are arriving as we get the news out to them and they come in from their homes and farms.” Hooker paused as he went over equipment states and manpower lists in his mind. “However I’m working on deploying what is basically a reinforced motorized rifle company.”

Crap! Faith frowned as she tried to keep her disappointment to herself, she’d been told that there’d be a full battalion waiting for her. However, this was nothing new to her; situation normal, all fucked up!

“As you can see from the map, Chief,” Hooker waved his hand above the map, “Burpleson Air Force Base is situated out here on the prairies. The terrain out there is mostly flat farmland cut through with barbed wire fences some drainage ditches and other than a few clumps of trees and bushes there’s very little cover.”

“Damn-it,” Faith studied the map closely, it looked worse on the map than it probably did in real life but it still looked bad.

“I take it that our mission is too urgent to wait for night so we can attack under the cover of darkness?” The Colonel looked at Faith hopefully.

“Sorry Sir,” Faith really was sorry, attacking in broad daylight would bump up their casualties badly, “the sooner we attack the better.”

“I thought so,” Hooker shook his head as he studied the map, “If I had more men available I’d attack from several directions at once, split their defensive fire,” Hooker glanced at Faith and saw her nod her understanding. “As I haven’t what I intend to do is bull my way down the main road here,” he pointed to the road leading to the base, “making the fullest show of attacking their defences at the main gate.”

Faith glanced at Hooker and considered saying something, but then decided to wait until he’d finished explaining his plan.

“Hopefully,” Hooker slowly turned to look directly at Faith, “when I’ve got their full attention my Recon Platoon can out flank their main positions and will be able to break through the perimeter wire. After that they’ll make it to the command centre before the Air Force can turn any significant forces to stop them.”

“How many men do ya think we’ll be facing Colonel?” Faith asked soberly.

“The equivalent of two, maybe three rifle companies,” Hooker explained, “but they’ll be spread out pretty thin around the perimeter. As far as I know they only have small arms and they certainly don’t have any armour…”

Yes, thought Faith, those old M113’s could make all the difference.

“Do you really think this’ll end in a fight, Chief?” Hooker wanted to know, “I mean those Air Force guys are American’s surely they won’t fire on us…hell! Some of them are married to local girls, they know us…”

As the Colonel’s voice faded away to nothing, Faith looked at him and saw a worried old man who’d never expected to have to do anything like this not even in his wildest dreams.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Faith shrugged resignedly, “but we can’t take the risk. We’ve got to overrun that base an’ grab General Ripper, a-sap.”

“What’s all this really about, Chief?” Hooker asked softly, “What do I tell my boys when they have to open fire on men and women they’ve known for years?”

“I can’t tell ya Colonel,” Faith felt like a traitor as the words left her mouth, “I don’t know the full story myself, I was sent to do a mission and I will carry out my orders to the best of my abilities. But I can assure ya this is vital, if it wasn’t I wouldn’t be here and the country wouldn’t be at Defcon Two.”

“Of course,” Hooker straightened his shoulders and stopped being a worried old man and became a professional soldier again, “I think I understand.”

“So Sir,” Faith looked back to the map, “where can I fit myself in?”

“I’ve been giving that some thought while we’ve been talking,” Hooker smiled knowing something that Faith didn’t. “I’m assigning you to my Recon Platoon. The men in Recon are probably some of my sharpest men with a good proportion of ex-regular army. However their Platoon Leader’s a little green,” Hooker gave Faith a conspiratorial wink, “I’ll tell her to take any suggestions you might give her very seriously indeed.” Hooker looked up to where his officers were standing waiting for him to continue with the briefing.

“Captain Grant!” He called and an officer detached himself from the group and walked over to where Faith and Hooker stood, “Take Chief Lehane over to Recon and introduce her to Lieutenant Owens.” Hooker turned to Faith and held out his hand, “Good luck Chief,” Hooker smiled, “and maybe if you have time after this business is over, you could take the time to have dinner with an old Colonel.”

“I’ll surely think on it, Sir” Faith shook the officer’s hand before taking a step back and saluting, “Luck, Sir.”

Turning away smartly, Faith followed Captain Grant towards Recon Platoon.

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson Air Force Base Perimeter Defences.**

Watching the bend in the road just outside the base main gate, Staff Sergeant Jones pressed his binoculars to his eyes as the sounds of tracks came faintly to his ears. His little defence detachment was positioned on a slight rise overlooking the road that connected the base with the nearest town, Springfield. He had about a dozen men and women, they had a couple of M60’s, while everyone else had rifles of course. They’d also been issued a couple of the precious AT4, anti-armour weapons that the base had in store. Their orders where to hold their present position for as long as possible, if they were in danger of being outflanked or overrun they where to jump into their two Humvees and make their way back into the base perimeter.

Still not being able to make anything out on the road, Jones continued to watch as the sound of tracks got slowly louder and the sound of vehicle engines started to fill the morning air. Seconds turned into minutes as the enemy convoy got closer, he gave an involuntary start as he caught his first sight of the approaching column as it came over the rise in front of him and entered the shallow valley to his front.

He recognised the lead vehicle as an old M113 armoured personnel carrier. He focused in on the man sitting behind his fifty calibre machine gun in the commander’s position. Running his binoculars over the rest of the column he saw that it was made up of a collection of military trucks and Humvees. Lowering his glasses, Jones shook his head.

“You sure gotta hand it to those bastards,” Jones glanced around at his second in command who was lying in the dry summer grass next to him.

“Yeah,” Agreed Corporal Wynn with a slight nod of her head, “those trucks sure look like the real thing don’t they?”

“I wonder were they got ‘em from?” Jones asked as he put away his binoculars and readied his rifle.

“Probably bought them from the French or someone,” Wynn lifted the butt of her M60 to her shoulder, reaching forward she cocked the weapon.

“Okay,” Jones sighted his rifle on the man in the hatch of the lead M113, “open up when they pass the two-hundred metre mark.”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Burpleson AFB, General Ripper’s Office.**

Standing behind the General’s desk, Colonel Reed listened nervously to the sound of firing outside. Glancing at General Ripper she wondered at the wisdom of keeping him alive. Perhaps she should have him kill the British officer and then turn his gun on himself. However, her orders were to keep the General alive for as long as possible, her master’s were playing some sort of game with the man, she didn’t know what it was or what they thought they’d gain. This was typical, she told herself, the high ups playing some game with a non-entity’s mind just because it amused them. Didn’t they realise that it could ruin the entire mission?

Why not kill the man now and let the recall codes die with him? Colonel Reed frowned as her eyes drifted over to the British officer, Mandrake. Now there was trouble waiting to happen. The RAF officer didn’t seem to see or hear her and as a result she couldn’t control him, she wondered why. Perhaps, Reed smiled despite herself, it was all the tea his people drank. Anyway, at the moment Mandrake was just sitting there not causing any problems, but the moment he did she would have to act.

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson AFB, near the main gate.**

Machine gun fire tore up the ground in front of Sergeant Jones’ position forcing him to duck down behind the earth bank that formed his squad’s defences. Next to him Corporal Wynn stopped firing her M60 as she too hid from the bullets that cracked above their heads. Hoping the danger had passed for the moment; Jones raised his head a little and looked out over the battlefield. He didn’t need his binoculars anymore everything was clearly laid out in front of him.

On the road he could see the burning wreck of a M113 armoured personnel carrier. Smoke billowed from its crew compartment staining the sky black as the vehicle’s internal fires consumed the fuel and bodies it still contained. On the road around the M113 lay half a dozen still forms, they’d been shot down as they’d tried to escape the burning hell of the armoured vehicle. There was a flat area just to the right of the road, Jones remembered that long ago there’d been a gas station and store situated there. Not long after he’d arrived at the base the place had closed down and had been bulldozed flat. Now the area was covered in long coarse grass and stunted bushes. A jeep stood forlornly right in the middle of this area its driver slumped over the wheel and the gunner for the .50 cal in the back hanging over the side, dead.

Not that Jones’ people had had it all their own way, after the initial shock of the ambush the Commies (as Jones referred to the enemy) had fought back sending a whirlwind of fire in the direction of his little force. Half his squad were now either killed or wounded and he was just considering his options. Should he stay put or try to get back to the main line of resistance? Next to him Corporal Wynn started to fire at a group of soldiers who were trying to outflank them to their right. Putting his glasses to his eyes, Jones saw the enemy troopers dive for cover into an old drainage ditch leaving one of their number behind lying in the grass.

“How much ammo you got left?” Jones asked as he dropped his binoculars and turned to Wynn.

“About five hundred rounds,” Wynn replied after quickly checking her supply, “What’s in the gun and two spare boxes.

Looking at the surviving members of his squad Jones watched them pop up from behind their cover, fire a few wildly aimed shots at the enemy and then hunker down as return fire whipped the air above their heads. The time had come, they’d put up a good fight…a better fight than he’d thought possible, it was time to retreat to the base before the enemy got too close.

“Look,” Jones put his hand on Wynn’s shoulder, “we’ve done enough here its time…”

Jones’ words were cut off by the sound of an explosion about fifty metres to their rear. Looking behind him Jones saw the earth tumble back to the ground after the explosion had ripped a smoking hole in the prairie. Before he could say anything else another explosion shredded the ground only twenty metres in front of their bank.

“CRAP!” Jones yelled as he grabbed hold of Wynn and dragged her down into cover.

The squad was efficiently bracketed by the mortars belonging to the National Guard, as soon as the mortar platoon officer was sure of his range he passed on his orders and his six tubes fired in unison at the target. Watching through his binoculars from the top of a straggly tree, the officer smiled as his bombs landed in a tight cluster on and around the target. He was proud of the men and women of his platoon as he saw there’d be no need to fire a second volley. Calmly he started to range in his mortars on their next target.

Up on the rise, Sergeant Jones pulled Wynn’s limp body from the pile of earth that had almost buried them both, she was bleeding from a wound in her left leg and a cut above her right eye where her helmet had been blown off. Looking around he couldn’t see any other survivors, but looking towards the enemy he could see a couple of squads rushing up the slope to secure his position. Deciding it wasn’t worth trying to run he started to put a dressing on Wynn’s leg wound.

“OKAY YOU COMMIE BASTARDS!” Jones yelled as the first soldier appeared over the top of the bank and pointed his rifle at him, “We give up!”

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson AFB, near the Station Family Housing.**

Standing in the crew hatch of the A/Cav, Faith listened to the sounds made by the mortar bombs exploding in the distance. Putting a pair of borrowed binoculars to her eyes she turned to look around the little open topped turret where the gunner and his Browning .50 cal stood and covered the buildings in front of her.

“What do you think, Chief?” Lieutenant McDowell asked; the woman was about Faith’s age and a realtor in civilian life, but just at the moment she was the very nervous Platoon Leader of Recon Platoon.

“I think, L-t,” Faith studied the gate, the little guard house and the sandbagged machine gun position opposite the guard house carefully, “I think,” she repeated, “that those houses are still full of families and whoever organised the defence doesn’t want too much fighting around here. But, they also don’t want us just wanderin’ in…see?”

Pointing to the ‘enemy’ positions Faith explained her thinking to the anxious officer who appeared so be grateful that Faith was there to relieve her of the responsibility of making any life or death decisions.

“See?” Faith shifted slightly so the officer could see down the road a little better, “They’ve got an M60 and two men in the bunker, a couple more on top of the guardhouse. Then there’s a couple over by the gate, I reckon there’s no more than eight of them and the heaviest thing I’ve see down there is the M60.”

“Okay,” McDowell’ swallowed and nodded her head, “what do you suggest, Chief?”

“I _suggest_ , L-t,” Faith grinned a little at the fiction of making ‘suggestions’ to the L-t, in truth she was telling the officer what to do, “is that we get this over quick, don’t give ‘em time to react, y’know?”

“Right,” McDowell’ nodded her head and looked at Faith like a little lost Girl Scout, “so how do we do that?”

Lowering her binoculars, Faith glanced over the rear of the carrier to where the four Hummers stood in a row behind the A/Cav. These unarmoured vehicles carried the rest of Recon Platoon.

“Lead the way with the A/Cav,” Faith told the officer, “order the guys in the Hummers to follow but don’t get too close.” Faith paused for a moment as she gauged how much fire power the platoon could put out while it was on the move. “Have the guy on the fifty,” she gestured to the man in his little turret, “concentrate his fire on that MG post, everyone else fires at targets of opportunity, but we want plenty of rounds going out I don’t want to give these assholes a chance to shoot back, understand?”

“I-I think so,” Lieutenant McDowell was wondering why she’d allowed herself to be talked into joining the National Guard.

Well, she knew the reason, better business contacts had been the reason. Everyone who was anyone in Springfield was in, or had been in the Guard. Being new to the area she’d wanted to fit in, she’d never expected anything like this to happen.

“Okay,” Faith grinned widely, “let’s get ready to rock and roll,” in her head she told herself that had been an incredibly stupid thing to say. “Once we overrun the machine gun have the driver plough through the gate. Everyone keeps moving, stop for nothing until we get to the HQ block, you okay with that, L-t?”

“R-right, Chief I’ll explain it to the men,” McDowell climbed down inside the carrier and then clambered out of the rear hatch before trotting over to the waiting Humvees.

Climbing up on top of the 113, Faith nudged the gunner’s shoulder.

“Ya hear all that?” she asked.

“On it, Chief,” the gunner replied as he turned to grin at her, “just like Iraq ain’t it?”

“What unit?” Faith asked relieved that at least one other person in the vehicle had seen combat.

“First Armoured,” the man replied.

“Hey,” Faith joked, “just remember that this old rust bucket ain’t an M1, okay?”

Turning at the sound of someone climbing into the rear of the vehicle, Faith looked down to see Lt McDowell climb in through the rear door and pull it shut behind her.

“Okay, Chief,” she climbed up to stand next to Faith in the crew hatch resting her rifle on the armoured roof of the vehicle, “everyone knows what to do…”

Faith doubted that but she’d have to live with it.

“…we’re ready as we’ll ever be,” McDowell gave Faith a frightened smile.

“Lock ‘n’ load!” Faith called as she hauled back on the charging handle of her M4, sometimes you just had to go with the clichés, hearing the guy on the fifty load and seeing McDowell fumble with her M16, Faith said a little prayer to the man upstairs before shouting, “Lets roll!”

Jerking into motion the A/Cav started down the road towards the gate, the driver, not wishing to be shot, had his hatch closed down so he drifted slightly left and right across the road. However he managed to keep them on the road so when the guy on the fifty opened up his aim wasn’t spoilt by them bouncing around across country.

Soon the heavy thump-thump of the fifty cal came to Faith’s ears as the gunner fired precise bursts into the MG post. Almost immediately the Air Force guys started to shoot back with their M60. Bullets pinged off the vehicle’s armour making Faith flinch down for a moment in surprise. The A/Cav rumbled on getting closer to the Air Force positions with every passing second. As they got nearer to the guard house the amount of return fire increased, more bullets bounced harmlessly off the carrier as Faith peered over the top of the crew hatch and sighted her rifle on the heads of the two guys on top of the guard house.

Firing twice in rapid succession, Faith saw the two Air Force guys throw up their arms, drop their rifles and then slump down dead, sprawled across the sandbag post on top of the building. Just as she was congratulating herself on an excellent piece of shooting, Faith remembered who she’d just killed. They’d been American service personnel who had been doing what they’d been told was right. This thought had the effect of darkening her mood and making her more determined than ever to get this whole business over with, as quickly as possible.

The guys in the Hummers had started firing now as they got a clear view of their targets. It was obvious to Faith that Recon had got fire superiority over the defenders. Now only the occasional shot came in their direction as the Air Force defenders concentrated on keeping themselves alive until it was safe to surrender.

The A/Cav rolled on by the now silent MG post, Faith caught a glimpse of two bloody corpses lying in the bottom of the position their weapon knocked over onto its side, they were no longer a threat so the gunner swung his weapon around and riddled the front of the guard house with the big heavy rounds as they drove past. Dust and pieces of brick and woodwork sprang spinning into the air at the touch of the heavy rounds. There was no return fire that Faith could detect.

Hitting the gate with a loud *CLANG!* the carrier paused for just a second before the gate gave up the unequal struggle and sprang open. Rolling on into the base, the driver paused unsure of which way he was supposed to go. Grabbing the microphone from McDowell’ numbed hand Faith yelled at the driver.

“GO RIGHT!” she yelled urgently, “Don’t slow down, keep going! MOVE IT!”

The driver mashed down on his accelerator and the carrier reared a little like a startled horse before charging ahead. Taking the right hand road the A/Cav picked up speed again as Faith glanced at Lt McDowell’ map; putting the microphone to her mouth once more she started to issue directions to the driver.

“Go down this road for about a hundred metres,” Faith called urgently, “then turn…”

There was a loud *WHOOSH!* followed by a thunderous bang as the A/Cav served to the right and stopped. Suddenly Faith found herself surrounded by smoke and flame and the sound of someone screaming. Just for a moment she imagined herself back in Iraq trapped inside a burning Hummer.

“Crap!” Faith woke from her living nightmare to find herself surrounded by thick grey smoke and the smell of burning electrical insulation in her nose, “EVERYBODY OUT!”

Climbing onto the top of the vehicle, Faith turned around, bending down she grabbed hold of McDowell’ equipment harness and hauled her single handed out of the back of the vehicle. Pushing the stunned woman over the side, Faith turned to help the gunner. Relieved to find the man half way out of his turret, Faith moved forward to help the driver. The man had managed to open his hatch and now lay half in, half out of the vehicle, Faith knew he was dead just by looking at him. Checking that she still had her rifle and gear, she jumped from the top of the carrier. Landing she rolled across the road until she hit the curb, pausing to look around Faith jumped to her feet and headed for a ditch where the gunner and Lt McDowell waited for her.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**Burpleson AFB.**

“L-T!” Faith grabbed hold of Lt McDowell’s equipment harness and shook the woman until she turned to look at her.

“W-what?” McDowell’s eyes were wide and sort of glazed over as if she didn’t know where she was.

“Listen up,” Faith began urgently, “you’ve got to…”

Faith’s next words were drowned out as the two Recon Platoon Hummers mounting .50 calibre’s opened up on the house from which the missile had come and destroyed the A/CAV. The torrent of heavy machine gun fire slowly began to demolish the house as the gunners played their weapons over the building until smoke started to rise from the wreckage.

“L-t?” Faith left off shaking the woman as she slowly turned to face her with wide, frightened eyes, “Ya gotta listen to what I’m tellin’ ya, okay?”

“B-but Hayden’s dead!” McDowell pointed back to the still burning A/CAV, “W-we can’t g-go on we’ve, we’ve got to pull back!”

Lt McDowell started to stand up only to be pulled back down into the ditch by Faith and the A/CAV gunner.

“LET GO OF ME!” McDowell fought to escape Faith’s grip but failed; when she found she couldn’t get away she went limp and sat in the bottom of the ditch and stared at nothing.

“Shit!” Faith looked carefully into the officers dazed eyes; it was obvious to her that the Lieutenant couldn’t handle what she was seeing and hearing, Faith turned to the gunner, “L-t’s outta it,” Faith announced, “Who’s the second in command?”

“First Sergeant Mack Johanson,” the gunner pointed to one of the Humvees.

“Okay,” Faith nodded, “stay here with the L-t, I’ll speak to the First Sergeant.”

Looking over the lip of the ditch, Faith looked around searching for trouble. Her normally effective anti-ambush cramps hadn’t warned her of anything prior to the A/Cav going up in flames, so she was taking no chances. Now that the 50’s on top of the Hummers had stopped firing the silence of the family housing was broken only by the sound of the A/Cav and the house across the street from it burning. Clambering out of the ditch, Faith ran over to the first Hummer.

“First Sergeant Johanson?” she asked only to be directed by a jerk of the thumb to the next vehicle in line; seeing the Recon troopers still sitting in the back of the vehicle, Faith yelled at them; “Get ya sorry asses outta that Hummer an’ deploy! Ya wanna get y’selves killed!?”

Running on to the next vehicle, Faith became aware of the sound of men scrambling out of their vehicle behind her. Sliding to a halt next to the Hummer, Faith grabbed hold of the open window to steady herself, looking inside she saw an older man with First Sergeant’s chevrons on his collar.

“First Sergeant, why are these men still in their vehicles instead of taking up anti-ambush positions?” Faith demanded.

“I thought…” began Johanson, but Faith didn’t give him time to finish.

“GET OUTTA THOSE VEHICLES!” Faith yelled down the line of Hummers, “SECURE THIS AREA, **NOW!** ”

Like an ant’s nest kicked by a small boy, men boiled from the back of the Hummers and ran to take up defensive positions around the vehicles. Struggling out of the door of his Hummer, Johanson stood in front of Faith and clutched his rifle nervously to his chest.

“W-what’s goin’ on?” Johanson wanted to know.

“God-damn-it!” Faith began to wonder if all the NCO’s were as bad as Johanson; the man looked almost as out of it as McDowell had. “Look, your L-t is outta it…”

“What?” The man looked around with panic in his eyes, “Is she hit? Where is she? We’ve gotta pull back!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Faith yelled into the man’s face startling him into silence, hands on hips she turned away from the First Sergeant and started to look for another NCO. “GOD-DAMN-IT!” Faith yelled with mounting frustration, “IS THERE ANYONE HERE, APART FROM ME, WHO AIN’T CRAPPING THEMSELVES!?”

“Chief?” A man stood up from behind the ornamental shrub where he’d been hiding, “Sergeant Garrick, Ma’am.”

“Get your ass over here Garrick,” Faith pointed at the earth between her feet; uncertainly, Garrick came out from behind his shrub and trotted over to where Faith stood. “Garrick, you are now in command of Recon Platoon.”

“What!?” Garrick’s eyes darted from Faith to over where the First Sergeant stood.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” Faith snapped when she saw the man’s eyes start to wander, “Where’s your map?”

Hurriedly Garrick took his map from inside his combat jacket and handed it to Faith. Taking the map, she opened it out and laid it on the road surface as she squatted down behind the Hummer.

“Look,” Faith began to explain the situation as Garrick joined her, “the L-t is outta it an’ your First Sergeant is an asshole so I’m putting you in charge.”

Although Faith saw Garrick’s eye flick over to where the First Sergeant still stood next to his vehicle, she also noticed that he didn’t object.

“This is where we are,” Faith pointed to the map, “and this is where Colonel Hooker is attacking,” this time Faith indicated an area around the base’s main gate. “What I want ya to do is come round here,” Faith made a curving gesture over the map, “an’ attack the en…” Faith found she couldn’t describe the Air Force guys defending the base as ‘the enemy’, “the Air Force from the rear, okay?”

“Yeah,” Garrick studied the map and nodded his head, “yeah I get it…what about the L-t and the First Sergeant?”

“Leave ‘em here with a guard,” Faith suggested, “I’ll straighten it out with Colonel Hooker when I see him, okay?”

“Got it Chief,” Garrick nodded before looking at Faith, “If you don’t mind me asking, Chief, what are you going to be doing?”

“Hey,” Faith grinned, “what I do the best…”

“And that is?” persisted the Sergeant.

“Being a real evil bitch,” Faith pushed herself to her feet, “Okay, ya wasted enough time mount up and get goin’!”

Watching as the Recon Platoon men climbed back into their vehicles, Faith checked her weapons one more time, so far she’d fired exactly two rounds accounting for two of the opposition. Once the Hummers had sped off down the road and the L-t and First Sergeant had been escorted to the rear (not exactly under arrest) by the A/Cav gunner, Faith took out her own map and studied it for a moment.

It was about half a mile to the first of the admin blocks from where Burpleson Air Force Base was run. Her problem was that she’d no idea where General Ripper was, he could be in the command bunker or he could be still in his office at the Base HQ Building. Checking her map again, Faith saw that the HQ Building was on her way to the Command Bunker, she could check out the building before she tried to crack the tougher nut of the bunker. Stuffing her map back inside her body armour and taking her M4 from her shoulder where it hung, she started to run between the houses. As long as no one shot at her she’d make it to the HQ block in about a minute maybe two. Listening to the heavy firing over towards the main gate Faith hoped there wouldn’t be too many defenders to notice her as she ran by.

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson AFB, Main Gate.**

Standing to one side of the road, Colonel Hooker waved his men forward. It had been a hard fight to secure the defences around the main gate and the scales had only been tipped when Recon Platoon (now commanded by Sergeant Garrick) appeared in the enemy’s rear forcing them to retreat or surrender. The old Colonel had learnt some hard lessons today, men that he’d relied on had let him down, other men who he’d hardly given a second thought to over the years had shown themselves to be accomplished professionals.

He’d also learnt that Armoured Personnel Carriers weren’t tanks, he’d started the battle with five now he had two left. These he was using as a ‘fire brigade’, loaded with men carrying M60’s and with the vehicle’s own .50 calibre machine guns he’d send them to reinforce units if the Air Force defence teams tried to counter-attack. Now he’d cracked the bases defences all that remained was to pry the remaining defenders from their positions within the buildings between him and the Command Bunker where they expected General Ripper to be hiding out.

Waving over his Executive Officer, Hooker started to plan his next move. As he looked out over the battleground he wondered where the cute Chief Lehane was. Sergeant Garrick had said she’d gone off to be an ‘evil bitch’. Colonel Hooker smiled to himself, any woman who could earn the coveted Ranger Tabs had to have something of the ‘evil bitch’ about her.

“Okay Captain Grant,” Hooker called as his Exec ran over to him clutching a bundle of maps, “let’s see where we’re going.”

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson AFB, General Rippers Office.**

Sitting on the couch in the General’s office, Group Captain Mandrake smoothed out the silver paper from a stick of gum as he wondered what the hell had happened to the world and the General in particular. How the hell was he going to put this right? He glanced at his watch; not only was there shooting outside but the bombers must be well on their way to there targets by now and were probably already being engaged by their target’s air defences.

“Mandrake,” General Ripper called as he clenched a cigar between his teeth.

“Yes, Jack?” Mandrake replied, didn’t they always say you should address someone who was…not to put too fine a point on it…a completely barking, by their first name?

“Have you ever seen a commie drink a glass of water?” This was not the question Mandrake had expected the General to ask him.

“Well, erm no I can't say I have, Jack,” Mandrake replied wondering what new insanity Ripper had come up with now.

“Vodka,” Ripper announced, “That's what they drink, isn't it? Never water?”

“Well I...” Mandrake felt more like screaming just at the moment that discussing the drinking habits of ‘commies’, “I believe that's what they drink, Jack.” To be honest all the people that he knew that might be called ‘commies’ drank beer (and they were quite snobbish about it) the thought of drinking vodka would never enter their minds.

“On no account will a commie ever drink water, and not without good reason,” the General paused as the firing outside died down a little. 

“Oh, erm, yes, I don't quite see what you're getting at, Jack,” Mandrake wondered if he could keep the General talking long enough for the troops outside to break in. 

“Water, that's what I'm getting at,” Ripper sat down next to Mandrake on the couch as the firing outside picked up again. “Water, Mandrake, water is the source of all life. Seven tenths of this earth's surface is water. Why, you realize that seventy percent of you is water?” 

“Erm, Good God,” Mandrake buried his face in his hands, if it wasn’t for the fact that the General was still clutching his pistol he’d have tried to jump him ages ago, but, he still needed to get the recall codes from Ripper and for that he needed him alive and conscious.

“And as human beings, you and I need fresh, pure water to replenish our precious bodily fluids,” Ripper gazed at the windows as the sound of firing got closer still. 

“Yes,” Mandrake chuckled nervously when all he really wanted to do was cry. 

“You’re beginning to understand?” Ripper asked, “Have you ever heard of a thing called fluoridation? Fluoridation of water?”

“Erm, yes,” Oh god, thought Mandrake, the world was going to be destroyed by a conspiracy nut! “I’ve heard of that, Jack.” 

“Do you realize that fluoridation is the most monstrously conceived and dangerous communist plot we have ever had to face?” Ripper asked his captive audience just as a burst of automatic fire broke the glass in about half the windows..

“Two can play at this game soldier!” General Ripper called as he stood up and walked over to the smashed windows, he looked outside.

As if in answer to his words, more rounds ricocheted through the office, cutting down the overhead light fitting and sending it spinning across the room. Holes appeared in the wall opposite the window as rounds seemed to pass straight through the General; Mandrake threw himself to the floor and watched as General Ripper wasn’t hit by the torrent of hot lead coming through into the office.. 

“That's nice shooting, soldier!” Turning away from the window, General Ripper strode over to the corner of the room and picked up a golf bag. Throwing it onto his desk he pulled an M60 machine gun from the bag along with a long belt of ammunition. “Mandrake!” Using the barrel of the machine gun Ripper cleared the top of his desk, “Come here!” 

“You calling me, Jack?” Mandrake stalled from the glass and paper littered floor.

“Just come over here and help me with this belt,” Ripper called urgently as he opened the receiver of the weapon. 

“I, erm, I haven't had very much experience, you know, with those...sorts of machines, Jack.” Mandrake stalled frantically, “I only ever pressed a button in my old Tornado.”

“Mandrake,” the General was struggling to hold the gun steady while he fitted the ammunition belt. “in the name of Her Majesty and the Continental Congress come here and feed me this belt, boy!”

“Jack, I'd love to come.” Mandrake began sorrowfully, “But, what's happened,” he explained clutching at straws, “you see, it’s the string in my leg, it's gone.” 

“The what?” Ripper paused in what he was doing and turned to look at Mandrake.

“The string,” Mandrake’s brain rapidly filled in details, “I never told you this, but, you see, I've got a gammy leg. Oh dear. Gone. Shot off.”

“Mandrake, come over here,” Having finally got the ammo belt into the gun, Ripper slammed the receiver closed and picked up the weapon, “The Red Coats are coming. Come on!”

0=0=0=0

Keeping low Faith took cover behind a dumpster as bullets cracked through the air above her head. The Colonel’s attack had made good progress, Faith told herself as she watched the rear of the HQ Block. The Air Force guys appeared determined to hold this block for as long a possible and Faith was beginning to wonder if the General might be inside and not at the Command Bunker as she and everyone else had assumed.

Thinking that the only way she was going to find out was to actually get inside and search, Faith was just about to make a dash towards the block when she saw a woman in a Colonel’s uniform and clutching an M16 burst from one of the rear doors. Jumping to her feet, Faith aimed her rifle at the woman.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” Faith ordered.

The woman stumbled to a halt as she searched for Faith’s position, catching sight of her the Colonel shifted and fired her weapon from the hip. Rounds impacted the dumpster and the ground at Faith’s feet tearing up the loose gravel and sending it flying. Holding her position, Faith fired twice and watched her rounds hit the Colonel in the chest. The officer dropped to the ground her M16 clattering onto the pavement as she fell. Moving forward cautiously, Faith paused and watched in shock as the female Colonel got back to her feet and picked up her rifle again.

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

Rolling to her left, Faith avoided the burst of fire directed at her by the supposedly dead Colonel. Continuing her roll, Faith came to her feet again, aimed and put two more rounds through the Colonel’s heart and one through her brain. Once again the Air Force officer went down dropping her rifle as she did so. Walking cautiously over to the body, Faith kept it covered with her rifle.

Back at Fort Drum, Colonel Mann had mentioned that they thought that General Ripper had been possessed by a demon, maybe all his staff had been taken over too. Perhaps this, Faith squinted at the name tag on the Colonel’s uniform, Colonel Reed was the General’s Exec. Had she been taken over by some hell-fiend as well? Glancing again at the officer’s name tag, Faith frowned, she didn’t recognise the name from her briefing notes and wasn’t the General’s Exec a British officer or something?

Nudging the body with her boot, Faith suddenly found herself staring into the mad, open eyes of the corpse as the cadaver grabbed hold of her ankle with a bloody hand. Crying out in shock Faith found herself being pulled off her feet by the dead and almost certainly possessed officer. Unable to bring her rifle to bear (and it having been proved to be less than effective) Faith kicked out with her free foot. The sole of Faith’s left boot caught the Colonel on the side of the head, there was a nasty snapping sound as the officer’s neck broke. Unfortunately this didn’t slow the ex-officer down one little bit.

“Oh crap!” Faith breathed as she rolled to her right and broke the monster officer’s grip on her ankle.

Jumping to her feet, she turned to confront the horror as it dragged itself to its feet in front of her.

The four bullet holes in her chest, one in her forehead and the broken neck didn’t appear to be slowing down the Colonel at all. Apart from having to twist her body so she could see Faith (due to her neck being broken she couldn’t turn her head) the deadbeat officer looked determined to do Faith grievous bodily harm. A low growl came from between the officer’s lips as her hands reached for Faith throat. Watching as the walking nightmare took an unsteady step towards her (obviously having its neck broken upset its balance too) Faith lashed out with a boot to the monster’s knee.

Again Faith heard bone shatter at the force of her blow. The Colonel’s leg gave away and she toppled over and fell towards Faith. Jumping back Faith wasn’t quick enough to avoid having her body armour grabbed hold of by the monster’s claw like hand. The weight of the Colonel plus the momentum of her fall made Faith fall onto her back with the dead Colonel half on top of her. Struggling on the ground, Faith tried to avoid having her eyes gouged out by the corpse’s sharp finger nails.

Striking at the creature with her fists, Faith found that her blows were having little effect, sure she was breaking ribs but as the Colonel didn’t appear to need to breath, having her lungs punctured didn’t seem to bother her. Managing to get a grip on the Colonel’s shoulders with both her hands and plant a foot in her assailant’s stomach, Faith pushed and sent the battered and bloodied corpse flying through the air. It hit a dumpster, bounced and staggered forward a couple of paces until its broken knee gave out. Making a sound like a tree falling, the knee joint bent outwards in a most unnatural way and the corpse fell to the ground. Kneeling on the earth the corpse colonel reached for Faith with one claw like hand as blood and gore dribbled from its limp lips and its head rolled from side to side.

“You’ll never get there in time,” gurgled the battered cadaver as more blood and bile dribbled down its chin, “I’ve won! You’ll all be destroyed and the survivors will be ours to play with like toys…”

“Year, right,” Faith replied, the crawling horror was right about one thing, time was marching on; she needed to finish this now and get to General Ripper, “Like that’s gonna happen!”

For an instant, Faith considered pulling her side arm and emptying the magazine into the colonel. As bullets didn’t seem to do more than slow this creature down, Faith discarded this idea. Okay, she went through her options quickly, bullets and breaking its neck didn’t work. Fire would be good but she had nothing to start a really good blaze in the time available. It was then something Willow had told her popped into her mind, something old from the dawn of time even.

Her hand fell to her waist and settled on the hilt of her bayonet. Drawing the weapon she advanced on the demonic colonel, knife-like weapon in hand. The officer caught a glimpse of the blade as Faith advanced, her eyes went wide with fear as she realised what her opponent was going to do.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Screeched the demon as it started to try and drag itself away from the vengeful soldier, “NOT IRON!”

Easily catching up to the monster, Faith held onto its blooded uniform and plunged the bayonet into the demon’s chest. The blade made a hissing sound as it entered the demon’s body. Evil smelling smoke rose from the wound as Faith twisted the blade from side to side and the demon screamed in agony. Stabbing again and again, Faith watched unemotionally as the demon screamed and writhed under her assault. Stinking smoke issued from the demon’s wounds each time Faith withdrew her blade and each time she stabbed the steel hissed angrily as it entered the unnatural creature’s body.

True iron, which included steel, had been man’s best defence against demons since…well Faith didn’t know when. But Willow had explained it all to her so it must be true, as indeed the now dead demon in front of her would attest to. This was why bullets didn’t always stop the monsters that her unit hunted but swords and axes did. Generally speaking bullets weren’t iron, swords were.

Wiping sizzling demon goo off her bayonet, Faith replaced it in its sheath, climbing to her feet she turned and picked up her rifle. Checking the weapon she swapped the magazine for a fresh one. Listening to the firing that was still going on around her, Faith gauged that the battle was coming to a close. It sounded like the National Guard had broken the back of the Air Force’s resistance, the fight would be over very soon.

The world would be over soon too, if Faith didn’t find General Ripper and persuade him to give up the recall codes for the bombers. Weapon in hand and a determined look on her face, Faith moved towards the HQ block. The sooner she found General Ripper the sooner all this would be over.

0=0=0=0

**General Ripper’s Office.**

Bullets ripped through the ruin of the windows and impacted the wall sending pictures pin-wheeling through the air to crash onto the glass covered floor. Standing amid all this destruction was General Ripper as he returned fire with his M60. Crouching on the floor next to the General was Group Captain Mandrake as he fed the ammunition belt into the machine gun’s insatiable maw. Hot brass and pieces of disintegrating-link-belt tinkled onto the floor as the gun roared out its defiance. 

“Stay with me Mandrake!” The General called as he and Mandrake crawled to one side of desk, “Alright, Mandrake, now feed me! Feed me!”

Standing up straight, General Ripper leaned into the gun as he continued to exchange fire with his unseen opponents outside. Slowly the return fire subsided and Ripper stopped firing and rested his butt against the side of the desk.

“Don't you think we'd be better off in some other part of the room,” Mandrake suggested hopefully, “away from all this flying glass?” 

“Ah, nah.” Ripper replied as he absently searched for an undamaged cigar, “We're okay here.” The General found a cigar, put it in his mouth and then started to hunt for his lighter, “Mandrake,” he found his lighter and brought the flame up to meet his cigar, “do you realize that in addition to fluoridated water, they’re adding it to salt, flour, fruit juices, soup, sugar, milk, ice cream? Ice cream, Mandrake, children's ice cream? 

“Good Lord,” Mandrake managed to sound surprised but deep inside he was wondering why this was happening to him and how he was going to save the world and prevent it from being destroyed by this mad man.

“Now how does that coincide with your postwar commie conspiracy, huh?” Ripper asked as he puffed on his cigar, “It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual, and certainly without any choice. That's the way your hardcore commie works.” 

“Jack... Jack,” Mandrake replied desperately, he listened to the firing outside it was getting closer and the return fire from the floor below sounded as if it was getting weaker, “listen, tell me, when did you, well, develop this theory?” 

“I-I first became aware of it,” the General looked at the end of his smouldering cigar as he held it between his fingers, “during the physical act of love.”

“Oh god,” Mandrake signed fearfully; he listened to the firing outside, it was definitely closer, he prayed that the attacking troops would get here soon. 

“Luckily I was able to interpret these feelings correctly,” General Ripper announced proudly, “loss of essence.”

“Yes...?” Mandrake listened as the firing stopped almost completely and was replaced by a shouted conversation the words of which he couldn’t properly make out, but it sounded like the defenders were negotiating a surrender. 

“I can assure you it has not recurred,” Ripper replied his voice filled with satisfaction as he remembered the touch of Colonel Reeds body against his own as they’d made love time and time again. The General appeared to notice that the firing had stopped, he sighed sadly, “The boys must have surrendered.” 

“It's the way it is, Jack,” Mandrake tried to hide the relief he felt; the next few minutes where going to be very important, possibly the most important few minutes in history. “Jack, listen,” Mandrake took a deep breath, “While there's still time, I beg you, let's recall the wing.” 

“Those boys were like my children, Mandrake,” Ripper walked slowly over to a chair, picked it up and sat down, a defeated man, “Now they let me down.”

“No no, Jack, not a bit of it,” Mandrake picked himself up off the floor, that was no place for an RAF officer to be, he dusted down his uniform, “No, I'm sure they all gave you their very best, and I'm equally sure they all died thinking of you, every man jack of them,” that came out with a little more sarcasm than he’d meant, however the General appeared not to have noticed. “Supposing a bit of water has gone off, eh?” Mandrake tried to convince General Ripper that his fears were groundless, “And certainly one can never be too sure about those sorts of things.”

“Would you look at me now?” Mandrake stood before the General in an effort to radiate health and vitality, “Do I look all rancid and clotted?” He laughed nervously, he didn’t like the faraway look in the General’s eyes. “You look at me, Jack, eh?” Mandrake attempted to sound a lot happier than he felt; he touched Ripper on the shoulder as he tried to get him to focus on him instead of whatever he was looking at in his mind’s eye. “I drink a lot of water, you know, I'm what you might call a water man, Jack.” Mandrake explained hopefully, “That's what I am, and I can swear to you, my boy, swear to you,” Mandrake realised that General Ripper’s mind had gone, but he kept on trying to get through to him, “There's absolutely nothing wrong with my bodily fluids. Not a thing, Jack!” 

Outside, he could hear the sounds of boots running across the gravel in front of the building as the attackers came to clear the building. He only needed to keep General Ripper talking for a few more minutes and this nightmare would all be over.

0=0=0=0

Bursting through the door at the back of the HQ block, Faith covered the corridor in front of her. Seeing nothing but some broken office furniture, discarded weapons and empty ammo boxes she advance carefully up the four steps that led from the door to the corridor proper. The sounds of firing had faded to almost nothing and had now been replaced by a shouted conversation. Whoever were in charge of the Air Force people in the building were negotiating with the National Guard. They were trying to get assurances that they wouldn’t be shot out of hand if they surrendered.

Creeping along the corridor, Faith looked for a flight of stairs to take her up to the next floor where her briefing notes had said that General Ripper had his office. Weapon held in front of her as she moved quietly down the corridor, trying not to let her boots squeak on the polished floor. This was no time to give her position away and get shot by either a nervous Air force guy or one of the Guardsmen. Sensing something behind the office door to her right, Faith flattened herself against the wall. 

Holding her rifle in her right hand she placed her left on the door handle, she couldn’t risk that someone might be in the office and then take it into their mind to burst into the corridor and shoot her in the back. Pushing the door open and not giving whoever was inside a chance to react, Faith grabbed the front of someone’s shirt and pulled them from the office and hurled them against the opposite wall. Rifle in hand, Faith checked the room was clear, finding it empty she turned to face her prisoner.

“Okay, you Commie bastard,” the Air Force corporal groaned as she sat on the floor her back against the wall, “I give up…I’ve got no ammo left anyway.”

Faith looked at the lanky, Air Force NCO as she sat there rubbing the back of her head.

“Watch who ya calling ‘Commie’, fly-girl,” Faith snapped, “Its Chief Lehane, US Army Rangers an’ don’t you forget it.”

“Aah don’t try an’ pull your Commie tricks on me,” the girl replied, “The General said you’d try to fool us with ya lies.”

“Whatever,” Faith sighed, she didn’t have the time to argue with this little bitch, “Okay have it your way, now where’s the General?”

“Y’think I’d tell ya, ya Commie bitch?” Replied the Corporal defiantly, “Go look for him y’self.”

“Yeah,” Faith looked up and down the corridor, “looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to do.”

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

7.

**Burpleson Air Force Base, General Ripper’s Office.**

“Mandrake,” General Ripper asked quietly, “were you ever a prisoner of war?” 

“Well, Jack, the time's running…very...what?” Mandrake was totally taken by surprise by the sudden change in topic. 

“Were you ever a prisoner of war?” the General asked again; outside everything had gone ominously quiet.

“Ah yes I was,” Mandrake replied uncertainly wondering where the General’s mind would take them this time. 

“Did they torture you?” General Ripper gazed unseeingly across his wrecked office.

“Well, ah, yes, they did.” Mandrake explained; he’d been shot down during the First Gulf War and captured, “I was tortured by the Iraqis, Jack, if you must know. Not a pretty story.”

“Well, what happened?” The General shifted his gaze to look at Mandrake. 

“Oh...well...I don't know, Jack,” Mandrake didn’t like talking about the incident he didn’t consider it one of his ‘Finest Hours’, “Difficult to think under these conditions.” 

“No,” The General shook his head, “I mean when they tortured you, did you talk?”

“Ah, oh no, I ah, I don't think they wanted me to talk, really,” Mandrake ran his hand through his hair removing a piece of ceiling tile as he did so, “I don't think they wanted me to say anything,” he shrugged, “it was just their way of having a bit of fun, the swines…” 

“You know those clowns outside are gonna give me a pretty good going over in a few minutes, for the code.” General Ripper said slowly the cigar clamped between his teeth forgotten.

“Yes,” Mandrake frowned; was the General showing a weakness he could exploit? “Yes, you may have quite a point there, Jack.” 

“I don't know how well I could stand up under torture,” the General confessed. 

“Well of course the answer to that is, old boy, no one ever does.” At last, thought Mandrake, the General was showing a fear that he might be able to use to get him to hand over the recall codes, “My advice to you, Jack, is to give me the codes now,” Mandrake suggested conspiratorially, “and if those devils come in here and try any rough stuff, we'll fight them together, old boy,” Mandrake laughed in a comradely way, “like we did just now, on the floor, eh? You with the old gun, and me with the belt and the ammo,” Mandrake was now wondering where the hell the relieving forces where, they should be breaking down the door about now, “Feed me, you said, and I was feeding you, Jack.”

Standing up slowly, General Ripper walked across the room and patted Mandrake on the shoulder. 

“No, Mandrake,” Ripper sighed as if he was very tired, “I happen to believe in a life after this one, and I know I'll have to answer for what I've done, and I think I can.” 

“Yes, well of course you can, Jack,” oh god, thought Mandrake, the blithering looney was coming over all religious now, he tried to sound reassuring, “of course you can. I'm a religious man, myself,” he lied, “I believe in all that sort of thing,” perhaps by playing on the deluded man’s beliefs he could still avert Armageddon, “I'm hoping, Jack,” Mandrake followed Ripper as he moved around the room, dropping his M60 and taking off his uniform jacket as he did so. “You dropped your gun, Jack!” Mandrake bent to pick up the weapon. “You know what I'm hoping, Jack?” Mandrake asked desperately, “I'm hoping you're going to give me the codes, old boy. That's what I'm hoping…”

Standing there still clutching the machine gun and wondering when the door was going to be kicked in, Mandrake watched as General Ripper entered his private bathroom. 

“Oh, you're going have a little wash and brush up, are you?” Mandrake said hopefully, “What a good idea, always did wonders for a man, that, Jack.” Mandrake had a horrible feeling he knew what was going to happen next, “A little wash and brush up, water on the back of the neck, makes you feel marvellous.” He watched the General close the door firmly behind him. “That's what we need, Jack, water on the back of the neck and the code. Now…!”

Even though he’d been half expecting it, the shot from the bathroom still came as a surprise, Mandrake dropped the M60 and rushed to the door. Putting his shoulder against the door he managed to open it just wide enough to get his head into the bathroom and confirm his worst suspicions.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Mandrake sighed as he saw the general’s body sprawled on the floor and his brains decorating the ceiling.

Leaving the door, Mandrake looked around what remained of the office, momentarily at a loss as to what to do next. However, within seconds, years of military training kicked in and he started to move with a purpose. His reasoning was the General Ripper might have left some sort of clue as to what the recall code was, he had to find it in the next few minutes. Glancing at his watch, he calculated that although the bombers would be over enemy territory by now, with luck none of them would have dropped their payloads.

Finding himself behind the General’s desk, Mandrake looked down to see a large note pad sitting crookedly on the desk in amongst the pieces of ceiling tile and other junk. Looking at it Mandrake saw that the General had been using the pad to doodle on. In amongst the little pictures of bombers and nuclear explosions were two phrases repeated over and over again; Peace on Earth and Purity of Essence.

“My god!” Mandrake gasped his heart filling with hope, “P-O-E! That must be it!”

Just as he was reaching for the phone two shots rang out blasting the door lock off and forcing the door to bang open. Into the room burst a short soldier who pointed his weapon at Mandrake’s chest.

“Who the hell are you!?” Demanded Mandrake hoping to overawe the soldier thus allowing him time to get on with his call to SAC Headquarters.

“Chief Lehane,” Faith snapped back, “US Army Rangers, who the hell are you and where’s General Ripper?”

“Bloody hell, you’re a woman!” Mandrake stared at Faith for a moment before saying, “General Ripper’s dead…shot himself in the bathroom…”

Still keeping her rifle pointed at Mandrake, Faith edged over to the bathroom door and looked inside.

“Crap!” Faith let the muzzle of her rifle drop a little, “Looks like I’m not gonna be able to arrest him now.”

“Arrest him?” Mandrake frowned as he put down the phone, the line had been disconnected. “You were sent to arrest him, surely you’re a little short to be doing that sort of thing. I mean the General was over six feet tall!”

“Hey!” Faith felt a little put out at being referred to as short, “Ya never been told that the best things come in small packages?”

“Well yes,” Mandrake admitted, “there is that I suppose,” he picked up another phone only to find the cable connecting the handset to the cradle had been shot away, “Oh damn,” he sighed before looking directly at Faith who was still pointing her rifle in his general direction. “Look, Chief,” Mandrake started to explain, “I’m Group Captain Lionel Mandrake, General Ripper’s Executive Officer, I think…I hope, that I’ve found the recall codes for the bombers. If I can call SAC we may yet be in time to stop a catastrophe from happening.”

Using her ‘supervision’, Faith took in the details of Mandrakes uniform, she particularly noted the pilot’s wings with the little ‘RAF’ embroidered in the centre. In the couple of seconds it took her to check the officer out, Faith felt as if the entire weight of the world was pressing down on her shoulders. What she said or did in the next few seconds would mean that millions possibly billions of people would live or die. Suddenly it occurred to her that it didn’t really matter what she said as long as she let Mandrake use the phone. If the guy was telling the truth the bombers would turn around, if he was lying they wouldn’t and they’d be no worse off than they were now.

“Okay, Group Captain,” Faith lowered her rifle all the way, “what d’ya need?”

“A working landline,” Mandrake replied as hope returned to his heart, obviously not all Americans were insane.

“Would a telephone booth do?” Faith asked, she’d seen one just down the corridor from the office.

“Good god yes!” Mandrake cried urgently.

“Follow me!” Faith headed for the door with Mandrake following hard behind her.

Running down the corridor outside, Faith skidded around a corner and came to a halt.

“HERE!” Faith called triumphantly, pointing to the booth.

“Oh thank god!” Mandrake hurried towards the booth, he glanced at Faith, “Just pray that it works.”

Lifting up the receiver, Mandrake almost fainted when he heard a dialling tone.

“Thank god,” he gasped as he searched his pockets for change; his eyes went wide as he realised his pockets were empty, he looked desperately at Faith, “No change!”

“Ain’t ya got a credit card?” Faith demanded as she searched her own pockets and came up with nothing.

“Damn-it!” Mandrake patted himself down once again, his wallet wasn’t in his jacket where it should be, “No!”

Just when it looked as if the world was about to end for want of a handful of loose change, Faith’s eyes fell on a soft drinks machine a few feet away down the passageway.

“Hold on!” Faith rushed over to the machine and punched it just where the cash box should be, a cascade of loose change tinkled onto the floor.; Scooping up a handful of coins she ran back to Mandrake, “This enough?”

Taking coins from Faith’s cupped hands, Mandrake fed the phone and made his call.

0=0=0=0

“Were we in time?” Faith asked hopefully several minutes later.

“I think so,” Mandrake sighed with relief and slumped against the side of the booth as the stress of the last few hours caught up with him. “We’ll have to wait for all the confirmations to come in, but I think we were in time,” he laughed quietly, “a perfect example of Anglo-American co-operation, wouldn’t you say, Chief?”

“If ya say so,” Faith smiled before adding, “gotta say, Group Captain, ya kinda look like crap.”

“Hmmm?” Mandrake rubbed his chin and felt the stubble beneath his fingers, “I dare say you’re right.”

“Hey,” Faith gestured to where National Guardsmen were escorting some Air Force personnel along the corridor behind them, “let’s get outta here before someone tries to take ya away.”

“Oh god,” Mandrake groaned, “I’m going to get such a roasting for this.”

“Roasting?” Faith looked at Mandrake questioningly as they walked along the corridor towards the stairs.

“Get into trouble,” Mandrake explained.

“Why?” Faith shrugged, “Ya weren’t in on the General’s plot were ya?”

“No,” Mandrake shook his head.

“Ya didn’t help him, did ya?” Faith started down the stairs, “And ya found the recall code, right?”

“I suppose,” Mandrake agreed reluctantly.

“Well, what ya got to worry about?” Faith bounced down the steps to the ground floor.

“You know, Chief,” Mandrake followed Faith down the steps more slowly, “just watching you makes me feel tired.”

“HA!” Faith laughed as she burst out into the mid morning sunshine, “Ya know in all the excitement I forgot breakfast, how’d you like to…HEY!”

Faith rushed over to grab hold of Mandrake’s arm as he staggered down the steps outside the block.

“Oh dear,” Mandrake recovered himself, “I think the shock has just set in,” his face had gone deathly pale, “mind if I…?”

“Yeah, sure,” Faith helped Mandrake sit down on the step as Guardsmen rushed in and out of the building, she sat down next to him, pulling her canteen from its pouch and handing it to Mandrake.

“Thanks,” Mandrake took the bottle in hands that trembled, “just look at me will you? Acting like my silly maiden aunt.”

“Hey, Sir,” Faith replied quietly, “Don’t sweat it, you did good.”

0=0=0=0

**Wolfram and Hart, Regional Office, New York.**

Looking up at the sound of the knock on his office door the department head saw one of his associates standing nervously in the doorway.

“Stop dithering like some nervous ninny,” snapped the executive, “come in and shut the door,” he watched as the associate shut the door and crossed the expanse of his richly appointed office, “this better be important.”

“Bad news from Burpleson Air Force Base, Sir,” the associate replied as he stood trembling in front of his boss.

“What’s gone wrong?” the senior man demanded; he’d not approved of the attempt to start a nuclear war, however it was what the client wanted and the Senior Partners hadn’t objected.

“We’ve lost contact with our asset, Colonel Reed,” the associate fiddled nervously with the papers in his hand as he spoke. “the National Guard retook the Air Base and reports suggest that the bombers have been turned back.”

“Damn!” the executive banged his fist on his desk top, the Senior Partners and the client would not be pleased, a lot of time and resources had been expended on this project. Someone would be skinned alive for this and he was going to make sure that it wasn’t him. “Alright,” he sighed, this would take some damage control to fix, “leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Ah, Sir?” The associate seemed rooted to the spot, “there is this,” he handed an eight by eleven photograph to his boss, “Maybe, if we…?”

“Hmmm,” mused the executive as he took the photo and studied it for a moment, “a slayer?”

“Yes, Sir,” the associate nodded hopefully, “I thought as she’s quite important in the scheme of things…”

“You’re not paid to think,” snapped the senior man, “but…” he smiled evilly, “…you did well to bring this to my attention.” Plans went rapidly through his mind; if he could show the Senior Partners that the project wasn’t a complete failure perhaps the death and destruct rained down on his department wouldn’t be too devastating and he would literally save his own hide. “What assets do we have still in place?”

“There’s a Covert Action Team on site that hasn’t been compromised yet,” the associate explained eagerly.

“Good,” the executive smiled and looked up at the associate, “I want to talk to them right now!”

0=0=0=0

**Burpleson Air Force Base.**

“Phew,” Mandrake passed Faith’s water bottle back to her, “thank-you I feel much better now,” he smiled, “you said something about breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Faith put away her water bottle before slinging her rifle over her shoulder, “ya sure ya feeling okay?”

“Never better,” Mandrake lied as they walked towards the road in front of the block together, “fit as a fiddle!”

“Yeah, right,” Faith wasn’t so sure, she’d seen cases of shock before and people didn’t recover ‘just like that’.

Letting it go, Faith led the way towards the road, she watched all the action around her for a moment. Guardsmen ran in and out of the buildings as others led away the sullen and confused Air Force personnel. Military vehicles sped along the road as they helped evacuate the wounded of both sides, there were even some civilian ambulances in the mix.

“Hey, Sir,” Faith said as she stood watching and Mandrake came to stand next to her, “I don’t think…!”

Suddenly Faith felt as if she’d been hit in the chest by a jack-hammer, she sensed herself being blown off her feet and flying through the air. Hitting the ground hard she lay there staring up at the sky; trying to form words she attempted to speak but her lungs felt as if they were on fire. All around her she could hear people yelling, ‘Medic!’ and ‘Sniper!’, it was only then that she realised she’d been shot…again.

“Chief!” Looking over to her left slightly Faith saw Group Captain Mandrake kneeling by her side, she wondered why he was pressing down on her chest with his hands, “Stay with me, old girl,” he told her urgently, “the medics will be here in a moment,” he gave a false laugh, “you’re not getting out of our breakfast date.” He turned his head away from her and yelled at someone she couldn’t see, “WHERE ARE THOSE BLOODY MEDICS!?”

“Here Sir!”

Looking to her right Faith saw a man with a red-cross armband bending over her, she noticed all the blood on Mandrake’s hands as he moved back allowing the medic to work on her.

“Stay with me Chief,” the medic said calmly as he started to pull open Faith’s body armour.

Oh fuck, not another Purple Heart, Faith thought as she felt the medic start to work on her; she was getting a little pissed at people shooting holes in her. Oh well, she told herself, at least this time it didn’t hurt so much; she laughed coughing up blood, maybe she was getting used to being shot. The burning sensation in her chest had subsided as the medic continued to work on her. Vaguely aware of Mandrake standing by her side as she was lifted onto a stretcher and carried towards a waiting ambulance, she actually felt sort of warm and comfortably numb. Feeling tired she started to close her eyes, she’d been up all night, she’d fought her way into the base and saved the world; no wonder she felt tired. Lying back on the stretcher, she could hear the medic talking into a radio as the ambulance started to move. Focusing her eyes she saw Group Captain Mandrake looking down at her, he had blood on his face, had he been hit too?

“Now you listen to me, Chief Lehane,” he said in his clipped British accent, “I’m ordering you not to die, you’ve still got to buy me breakfast…this isn’t h-how the story is supposed to end…I-I mean what will the chaps in the Mess say if you went and died on me, eh?”

Smiling dreamily, Faith lay there as the medic stuck something in her arm; she wasn’t afraid to die, she was just so bone tired with it all, maybe she’d take a nap. Yes, that’s what she’d do, just shut her eyes and sleep for a while.

“Quite a ride,” Faith murmured as she closed her eyes.

0=0=0=0

**Cape Vincent Hotel, Cape Vincent, New York State, a little later.**

Heading down stairs for a late breakfast, Willow glanced at her watch. Was it really nine hours since Faith had left her and climbed aboard that army chopper? The memory of seeing Faith climb aboard the aircraft made her pause and think for a moment; what ever mission Faith had gone on must be really important for them to send a helicopter for her.

Before she’d left, Faith had promised Willow that she’d call as soon as she could to tell her when she’d be back. However, she’d added that if Willow hadn’t heard from her by midday on Saturday (today) she was to go home and not waste time at the hotel. Willow was used to this, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt every time their plans were spoilt. But, what did she expect dating a big important soldier like Faith Lehane?

Sitting at a table by the window, Willow placed her cellphone on the table next to her. Although the time was creeping towards midday she still hoped for that call. The buzzing of her cell made Willow jump a little, eagerly she picked up the phone to answer it.

“Faith?” she asked hopefully, listening to a familiar voice at the other end of the connection, Willow’s face fell a little. “Oh, hi Buffy,” Willow smiled, so it wasn’t Faith but it was always nice to hear from Buffy. “I was expecting Faith to call,” Willow noticed that Buffy didn’t sound very happy, “hey, is everything okay?”

As she listened to Buffy’s voice all traces of happiness left Willow’s face as she grew more frightened and concerned.

“But…” Willow started to say something but the words caught in her throat, “No Buffy…” Willow slumped in her chair as the tears started to roll down her face and her shoulders shook with her sobs, “…not again…I-I can’t…not Faith too!”

Eventually words failed Willow and she closed up her cell and put it away, sitting in her chair with tears streaming down her face she stared out over the cold, grey waters of Lake Ontario.

_We'll meet again  
Don't know where  
Don't know when,  
But I know we'll meet again   
Some sunny day.  
Keep smiling through  
Just like you always do,  
'Til the blue skies   
Drive the dark clouds far away.*_

THE END.

*"We'll Meet Again" is a 1939 song made famous by Vera Lynn with music and lyrics composed and written by Ross Parker and Hugh Charles; it was played over the end titles of ‘Dr Strangelove’.

Highlight and right click to watch video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFkryh6hC-k

**Author’s Note.**

Okay, this is sort of the mid-season hiatus, now hands up all those who think Faith’s dead? Right…let’s see…one, two, three… Right fair enough, well all I’m going to say is; the message is in the song.

The next 'Military Faith' story will be a prequel set back in the days when Faith was a 'Spec 4'.

Thanks for reading.

Steeleye.


End file.
